


Reality

by MadSeason (naive_wanderer)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Crossdressing, F/M, Ficlet, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-31
Updated: 2011-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-28 14:54:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/309054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naive_wanderer/pseuds/MadSeason
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave Strider, and a gown. More specifically, Dave Strider in a gown.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reality

    The gown fits him well; even with his lack of experience with feminine clothing, Dave can see the perfect angles and wispy, silken flow in his stark reflection. Dave is sixteen and still gangly-skinny, but cocooned in the clinging folds of this dark, smooth fabric, he looks elegant. He looks strong, the overworked muscles in his bare arms standing out. He looks feminine and, still, indescribably male.

    He looks like himself, the way he wants to be: distant, refined, powerful.




            Cool.

            Strictly speaking, he’s wearing the gown because he lost a bet with Rose. Strictly speaking, he lost the bet on purpose.

            Glancing at the upturned corners of Rose’s mouth through the mirror, it occurs to him that she might have been aware of his intentions the entire time.

            Abruptly embarrassed, he mumbles, “Don’t laugh.”

            Rose’s hand rises to her hip; the other brushes the hair away from her face. “I’m not laughing,” she says, voice as gentle as he’s ever heard it—which is to say, still with a faint overtone of metaphorical sneer. That’s alright; he knows her well by now, and all her defense mechanisms too. She says again, “I’m really not laughing, I promise. I like it, Mr. Strider,” and he believes her.

            “You know, Lalonde, I do look pretty hot,” Dave says, swinging his hips and ruining the soft pull of the illusion. He’s just sixteen-year-old, frustrated Dave again, standing around not-so-ironically in a dark gown Rose alchemized out of who-knows-what, because he lost a bet.

            Rose blinks slowly, and her dark lips part. Before Dave can ask what her problem is she steps around him, blocking most of his reflection, and reaches for his shades.

            It’s not frightening as it once was when she slides them off, but when she steps away it’s still startling to see his own face in the mirror, bare to the world and weirdly young. Beneath his chin the smooth god-skin of his neck stretches over a burgeoning adams apple, and beneath that rest the points of his collarbone, his bare shoulders, and the flatness of his chest beneath the smooth darkness of the gown.

            Beside him, Rose carefully slides the shades onto her own face. This is definitely not part of the bet, but Dave can’t find it in him to raise any objections. The sunglasses are too big for her. She looks good in them.

            Dave swallows, and Rose’s arm finds it way around his waist; her hand curls at his hip, and she pulls him close, bony hip to bony hip.

            She smiles wide.


End file.
